Harper's Stalker-Part 3

Okay, I know that I said the last chapter was the end, but I didn't like how it ended, and I have an idea. Some major Harper hotness, and a sort-of happy ending. I got inspired for this from another one of my favorite tv shows, so I'm going to babble. Also, I am parading (is that a word?) Shania Twain's song, 'That Don't Impress Me Much'. I do not own the original lyrics, or anything like that.

Harper slipped into the noisy bar-room, fading into the shadows. He didn't want to stand out much in this crowd, after the humiliating scene earlier that day. To be embarrassed like that in front of that whole group of people, a lot of them he knew, was almost too much to bare. When he tricked them, he tricked all of them, so they felt stupid in a group. He was young then, too. He had been singled out for a crime he did when he didn't know any better. He couldn't wait to leave this planet, and the embarrassment behind him.

He thought he might as well have some fun with strangers on this planet, before he had to leave the next day, with his 'tail between his legs'. This had been a fancy dress party, stocked with booze, girls, and booze. With the lights flashing on and off, and the amount of alcohol in everyone's systems, it would be hard to pick him out. Sometimes he liked to show off, and stand out from the crowd, but he had times when he wanted to melt into 'the crowd'.

The familiar beginning cords of a song he knew all too well swelled up from the huge speakers that were booming out the music. His eyes widened in shock, then he started to smile.

"I've known a few guys who thought they were pretty smart. But you've got being right down to an art. You think you're a genius-you drive me up the wall. You're a regular original, a know-it-all. Oh-oo-oh, you think you're special? Oh-oo-oh, you think you're something else. Okay, so you're a slip-stream scientist. That don't impress me much! So you got the brain, but have you got the touch? Don't get me wrong, yeah I think you're alright. But that won't keep me warm in the middle of the night. That's don't impress me much!"

Harper had went out once with an inspired singer, who wanted to make it big on Fasamalda, the planet where dreaming wanna-bees went to try and get 'found'. She had been alright, but after the weekend was up, he had left without a good-bye, an explanation, or a look back. She had been obsessed with the old singer, Shania Twain. He knew her voice anywhere, and guessed she probably was still mad at him.

Harper smiled, making his way through the crowded room to the refreshment table. He loved parties here. There had to be at least 50 cups of ever kind of alcohol in the universes here. Looking at the options, Harper picked up a whiskey, then started sipping at it, as he listened to the recorded song. She must have made it big with this. He was glad she got her wish, and made it big on the interstellar radio, but there was no mistaking that this song was about him. If the first verse didn't clue him in, the next one certainly did.

"I never knew a guy who carried a mirror in his pocket, and a comb up his sleeve-just in case. And all that extra hold gel in your hair oughtta lock it. 'Cause Heaven forbid it should fall out of place. Oh-oo-oh, you think you're special? Oh-oo-oh, you think you're something else. Okay, so you're Brad Pitt. That don't impress me much! So you got the looks, but have you got the touch? Don't get me wrong, yeah I think you're alright. But that won't keep me warm in the middle of the night. That's don't impress me much!"

Harper leaned up against the wall, watching people sway on the dance floor. People were angels, Thans, dogs, anything you could think of. He caught his reflection in a nearby mirror, and admired himself. He looked pretty good, he must admit to himself. If he was being modest, and even though he says he looks good but doesn't think he really does, he had to say he looked hot today. His outfit was an old western cowboy. He had a tight light brown jacket that laid open on his chest. Underneath, he had the same colored vest, with a white cuff-shirt under the vest. He had everything; a black tie, black boots, a white cowboy hat, and even a sheriff star-badge. His usually spiky hair was flat, and sticking out from under the hat. When he lived in Boston, he would always see old movies and read old books about western outlaws.

He glanced up, his bangs hanging over his eyes. His blue eyes locked onto bright green eyes. A girl was looking at him from the other side of the room. She had dark brown hair, almost black, that was straight and fluffy. She had it up in a high ponytail bun, with a large red feather sticking up. She had a tight red and black outfit on, with a slit that exposed her black stocking-ed long legs. She looked like one of the girls in western movies, running the saloons and passing out drinks.

Without a word, they both met in the middle of the dance floor, and started dancing, as the song about him played on. "You're one of those guys who likes to shine his machine. You make me take off my shoes before you let me get in. I can't believe you kiss your ship good night. C'mon baby tell me-you must be jokin', right? Oh-oo-oh, you think you're special? Oh-oo-oh, you think you're something else. Okay, so you got a ship? That don't impress me much! So you got the moves, but have you got the touch? Don't get me wrong, yeah I think you're alright. But that won't keep me warm in the middle of the night. That's don't impress me much! You think you're cool, but have you got the touch? Don't get me wrong, yeah I think you're alright. But that won't keep me warm in the long, cold, lonely night. That don't impress me much! Okay, so you think you're Elvis or something? Whatever...That don't impress me much!"

The song ended, as people started clearing the floor. A cowboy song started playing, something with outlaws, cowboys, and horses. 'How fitting',Harper thought. The girl in his arms was his height, so the dancing wasn't awkward. "You know, I heard that the girl who did that last song got sued out of her mind and money by Shania Twain. Shania said that the girl only changed a few words, so it was still her song. Ended up that the new pop star got thrown into jail, with no chance of getting out unless she pays the royalties, which are unbelievably high, and almost impossible to ever pay back."

Her voice sounded all too familiar to him, and her constant need to make sentences longer than they needed to be, struck a cord inside of him.

"Maria?" The girl looked up to him, a big smile on that familiar face.

"Shay!" Her eyes went wide in wonder, and it was obvious that neither had recognized each other. "Man, I haven't seen you since we were teens!"

"This can't have been chance!" Harper said disbelieving.

"Well, no. Not exactly fate."

Okay, I'm actually gonna wrap up this story next chapter, and it will actually make sense, hopefully!